


This is Love

by ratmeat



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Grinding, Making Love, Rain, Smut, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:26:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22836250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratmeat/pseuds/ratmeat
Summary: The dark, peacefulness of rainy weather always gets Abigail excited. It is hard to say no to something you want just as much as she does.
Relationships: Abigail (Stardew Valley)/Original Character(s), Abigail (Stardew Valley)/Original Female Character(s), Abigail (Stardew Valley)/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 61





	This is Love

She drapes her soft locks over one shoulder as she curls up on the loveseat. Rain pours steadily outside, the noise providing a melody of comfort. You take the spot beside Abigail and a gentle smile tugs at your lips as you watch her gaze at the rain. Her finger trails alongside the raindrops that slide down the glass. This is it, you think to yourself, this is love.

Abigail shifts her body towards you, but doesn't allow her gaze to tear away from the weather outside. "The dark... the rain..." she says softly, finally meeting your eyes, "It gets me excited." Red settles across her face, and she moves closer to kiss your cheek.

You cradle her cheek with an open palm to which she gladly leans the weight of her head into. The look in her eyes as you rub her cheek absentmindedly with your thumb is so warm and tender, and you know she thinks it too: this is love. Your hand falls slowly from her cheek to her shoulder, all the way down her arm, and finally to her hand. You hold onto her fingers and lift her hand up to kiss its back.

At this point you remember the list of errands you've yet to complete and an audible sigh escapes you. Her hand pushes up against yours to allow her fingers to slot between your own. Although you know it seems silly, you can't help but to think how perfectly her hands fit against yours; it feels as if her hand is your own.

"Hey," she whispers. Your eyes dart back up to hers. She is smiling that lopsided smile of hers, and she uses her free hand to tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. "You look like you've been hard at work..." 

You nod. "I still have a lot to do, though."

Abigail laughs at you. "Oh, honey... ever the dutiful worker," she jokes, "Can't it wait until tomorrow?"

You think about it for a moment, and the remaining things aren't absolute necessities, but it will just mean more work for you tomorrow. Still... you can't say no to your wife's pout.

"Yes, but I might need your help tomorrow then, if that's okay?" you reply.

Her nod is immediate and she untangles her fingers from yours. Her hands start to move, but they hesitate and simply rest in her lap. The redness of her cheeks is all you can notice against her pale skin. Well, that and a dozen freckles dotting her nose and cheeks. "Then..." She looks up at you. "Can I help you relax?"

Your eager nod eases the nervousness in her eyes, and her smile returns. She instructs you to turn around, and her hands start kneading the tissue of your neck and shoulders. Sometimes you forget how stressful farm work can be on your body, but Yoba does it flood back when she slowly works out the tightness in your muscles. Your eyebrows furrow and you groan when she presses into a particularly tender spot.

She pauses. "Did I hurt you, my love?"

You shake your head, but she doesn't resume the massage. Instead, her hands drop to your upper arms, and she kisses your neck.

"Let's get these clothes off of you," she breathes against your ear. It sends a tingle through your body, and you know you're stuttering as you work to pull your shirt over your head. While you're at it, you unzip your bra and allow it to fall down your arms. Abigail removes it completely—likely tossing it on the coffee table with your shirt.

Her arms slip underneath your own, and her hands waste no time with finding your breasts. She gropes and kneads them with warm hands while her lips settle in the crook of your neck. Your breathing picks up as calloused fingers graze over your nipples. The combination of sensations has them stiffening under her touch, and she toys with them almost absentmindedly while her tongue glides up your neck to the shell of your ear.

You shift, squeezing your thighs together lightly to ease the growing need between your legs. One of her hands drop from your breast to your belly and you hold your breath as her nails drag down to the hem of your pants. For a moment, you get ready to help her remove them, but she instead drags her fingers back up your stomach and chest, allowing them to settle on your neck. Abigail nips at your ear and that held breath escapes you as a low whine. 

She laughs, and it drips with desire. Both her hands find the button of your jeans and by the time your brain catches up with your body, she has deftly removed them. A hand settles against your neck again and draws your head back.

"You're so beautiful, honey," she says. It is so gentle, so sincere, so soft... just like her. You want to say something back—maybe tell her that no, she's just seeing her own reflection in your eyes—but her other hand is trailing down your stomach before you can part your lips.

She's teasing you again, drawing your thighs apart just to scrape at the sensitive skin. Her hand so close to where you want it... so, so close, but still no cigar. Between the sound of rain drumming against the roof, Abigail tracing the insides of your thighs, and her breath against your neck, you feel like her love is high tide. Yoba, you're in too deep, and you're so close to drowning in it.

"Abby..." you say, almost a whisper, "Please."

She kisses your jaw. "Please, what?"

Your eyebrows push against each other. "Touch me," you plead.

Her nails sink into the inside of one of your thighs, forcing a noise from you. "I am, darling," she teases.

You consider just moving her hand yourself to avoid having to beg, but you know she is getting something from it, and you live to please her just as much as she lives to please you.

"I want you inside me, please."

Her lips curl up against your neck. She finally touches you, fingers rubbing painfully slow through the fabric of your panties. Your craving for more pressure causes you to raise your hips slightly, and once you achieve it you grip her arm with one hand and the couch with the other.

The hand against your neck falls down to your breast again and fondles you. Being pressed up against her like this while she rubs and squeezes is the best kind of intimacy. She is nearly voiceless—all heavy breathing and satisfied hums—but her hands and her warmth scream "I love you" a dozen times over in your ears.

Like a wave her arms retreat back under yours, and you feel her weight lift off the sofa. She is standing in front of you now, gently pushing you down on the sofa. Abigail makes a show of removing her clothes, running her hands along bared skin before removing another layer. It's driving you wild; you so desperately want to touch her... to grope her and kiss down her stomach that you love so much. You don't, though. You let her have her fun and you merely burn holes in her figure with your need.

Her hands travel one last time up her legs and all the way to her breasts. She stares at you as she crawls back on top of you, fingers tucking under your panties and dragging them down. You lift your hips and with that you are both naked.

"Like a perfect Amethyst..." she whispers. "I want to take a bite out of you, honey."

Your lips turn upwards into something like a smile. "I'm not stopping you," you respond.

One hand rests on your abdomen while the other slips between your legs and finds your clit. Your breath hitches. You had thought she would tease you for a little longer, but you were (pleasantly) wrong.

Her fingers press firmly against you and work in circles. It feels so good, so right, and you try your best not to push your hips up into her touch.

"Does that feel good?" she questions, even though she can see the answer in the way you rub at your own breasts

You nod, and she presses down on your clit a little bit harder. "You look so good like this, love," she purrs. She finds a steady pace, and occasionally uses her thumb instead to flick at the nub. You are tensing beneath her, trying to roll your hips into her touch despite being pinned down by her. She laughs and calls you beautiful, repeating over and over again how lucky she is to have you—how you saved her from an otherwise dull life.

You want to cry, but not out of sadness or anything of the sort. You love her so much; even as she is getting you off, she never forgets to tell you how much she adores you. Of course, you attempt to reciprocate but the words don't make sense in your head.

"Abby... you're– fuck, you're so good." That's all you can manage to get out, but it is enough for her. She shifts back a bit and rubs your slit with the fingers of her free hand. It does the job of getting them wet, and she slips one inside. She draws it in and out, and it curls and rubs against your sweet spot. With another withdraw, she pushes back in with a second finger and you're tensing again.

Your orgasm feels as if it is contained behind a dam, and Abigail is so close to breaking it. She tells you sweet nothings as she quickens her pace, watching you suck your lip in and furrow your brow. Every sensation blurs together and reaches its peak, and your body is shuddering when the dam finally breaks. You slur a few curses and praises, and eventually the muscles in your abdomen and thighs relax.

You open your eyes and Abigail is bent over against you. She presses her tongue flat against you and laps at the wetness. Your fingers thread through her hair until she finishes. She licks her lips and wipes her face with the back of her hand. You beckon her to come closer and steal a kiss from her when she does.

"Thank you," you manage.

She smiles. "Of course, darling."

You watch her attempt to get up, likely to get a cloth for clean up and a blanket, but there is no way you're going to leave her hanging. You grab her wrist softly and pull her back; there is a look of confusion in her eyes, but it dissolves when you point at your face.

Red returns to her cheeks and she waves her other hand. "Oh you don't have to I'm–"

"Sit on my face."

Your outright demand gets her flustered and she complies, clambering back on top of you and hovering over your face. You hook your arms around her thighs and push them down, immediately latching onto her swollen clit. She's dripping and you can feel her fingers in your hair, scratching your scalp. You suck on her, tongue rolling over the nub flicking it in different directions. Abigail rolls her hips down onto your mouth. For a bit you let her movements guide you, and from there you match those movements to give her what she needs.

"Oh, Yoba," she says, more to herself than anything. Your hearing is muffled by her thighs, and you wish you could hear her soft noises better, but at the same time you aren't complaining. You get the privilege of hearing the loud ones, and that is satisfying in its own right.

She's being vulgar, praising you for how good you are, and begging you to make her cum. If you could speak, you'd tell her that you fully intend to, but instead you redouble your efforts. You drag your tongue down and dip inside her, taking anything she can give you before going back to her clit. She grinds down on you and pulls at your hair. You inhale deeply and her arousal floods your senses accompanied by the faint scent of her bodywash.

You think to yourself that this is love. You love her when she is raring to go, excited for adventure. You love her when she is all tender kisses and soft touches. You love her when she is dominant and teasing. You certainly love her when she is grinding down on your tongue, choking back moans that sound like melodies.

Without warning she stops, her thighs shake around your head and she lets out the most desperate sound you've ever heard her make. You do as she did for you, catching her juices with your tongue and savoring the taste. She comes back down from her high and her fingers loosen in your hair. You uncurl your arms and let her get off of you. You stand up alongside her, embracing her from behind and kissing the freckles on her shoulders.

"Let's get a shower," you whisper.

She is back to tender kisses and soft touches, standing beneath warm water and washing your hair for you. When you're finished you curl up in bed together with tangled legs and fingers. You stroke the ring on her finger and find yourself smiling.

"This is love," you whisper.

She nods against you. Everything is soft and hazy. The rain is still steady outside and you press a kiss to her forehead before succumbing to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't posted on AO3 in a good 4 years! I'm admittedly a bit rusty, but I pray this is enjoyable nonetheless. If you enjoyed it, feel free to leave kudos or a comment—I would love to respond to those. Heartsign&smileyface.


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